The Resurrected Immortal - Chapter 103: Training Camp (2)
“““One!”””
*Beep! Beep~Beep!*
“““Twooo!”””
Flat on their backs with arms spread wide and legs thrust straight up to form an L-shape, the trainees' legs tilted left, then right in rhythm with Eunhyeon's whistle blasts.
“““Threeee!”””
Even though the reps weren't that many, Yuria's body—depleted of stamina from the previous exercises—was screaming in agony, her waist feeling like it might snap as she gritted her teeth and shouted the cadence.
*Beep! Beep~Beep!*
“““Fourrr!”””
No matter how much consistent training and knight lessons they'd endured, it was undeniable that the current drill was grueling even for teenage girls like Erin and Eira.
Their muscles shrieked in protest, their voices hoarse from constant breaks, but they pushed through because if even one fell short of the required reps before everyone finished, they'd all have to start over from the beginning.
It was collective responsibility at its cruelest: if any one of the six—excluding Elenoa—failed to meet the conditions, the rest got dragged down with penalties.
But what was even more insidious...
“Five! Ah! I'm really sorry!”
“There it is—the final cadence.”
“Ah...”
The two girls glared at Eunhyeon with eyes full of despair, while one woman shot him a look that screamed she'd genuinely like to kill him right then. His lips curled into a sly grin.
Not only did the final cadence reset the count, but they also had to complete double the previous reps to pass? No.
It was the spy planted among them.
As Yuria shot a resentful glance at Aisha, who had uttered the final call, Aisha flinched and averted her eyes, whistling innocently.
Aisha, Alex, and Merdin taking turns to deliberately trigger the final cadence and force penalties only fueled Yuria's rage further.
In truth, preventing the final call through unanimous effort was impossible from the start.
Yuria, Erin, and Eira's gazes were so utterly hopeless that even Alex and his group couldn't meet their eyes, guilt weighing heavy on their faces.
After squats, push-ups, bends, jumps, and more assorted calisthenics, Yuria—the least athletic and most stamina-deficient among them—hit her limit first.
“What... kind of training is this...? You fucking bastard...”
To Yuria, it just felt like a sadistic ploy to torment someone she didn't like.
Finally collapsing in a heap, spewing curses, her disheveled state hardly befitted a princess of a nation—but no one could blame her.
Alex, Merdin, and Aisha were accomplices in draining her stamina, while the utterly exhausted Erin and Eira hung their heads, gasping for breath with no spare energy to care for others.
“One person's hit their limit. The rest look pretty worn out too, so let's call for a break, Lady Elenoa.”
“...Yes.”
The sole healer among them had been sidelined from the training.
She glared daggers at Eunhyeon, who had reduced everyone to wrecks without lifting more than a finger, but priority one was restoring Yuria, now collapsed from exhaustion.
Eunhyeon hoisted a girl over each shoulder, then followed Elenoa as she supported Yuria toward the entrance.
“Can't you go a little easier? Your Artia members or Cracir knights might handle it, but the princess and these girls are still delicate. What if something serious happens...?”
“People don't die that easily. Besides, you're here, Lady Elenoa—that's why I pushed them this hard. Knowing your own limits is crucial.”
“I really don't like being treated like a walking potion.”
“That's the fate of a priestess, isn't it?”
“...Hmph!”
Elenoa whipped her head away, fuming at Eunhyeon's knack for picking the most infuriating words. He gently set the two girls down against the wall, checking their complexions.
“Just exhaustion. No major issues. Drink some water and rest here.”
“Yeah...”
“Tha...nk... you...”
They snatched the water bottles he offered like parched wanderers finding an oasis in the desert, gulping them down.
Eunhyeon watched for a moment, then turned and headed back to the training ground.
“Hooah! I can finally breathe!”
“Haaa...”
With fluids replenished, Eira felt her body go limp and slackened against the wall.
“Erin...”
“Yeah?”
“Does Master Eunhyeon... always turn into a different person when he trains people...?”
“Ah, haha, Hyun gets really obsessive about training specifically...”
Erin gave a awkward smile in his defense.
“But you've endured training this harsh ever since then, right?”
“Uh, well, yeah.”
Truth be told, the regimen she'd undergone back then was child's play compared to this, but at the time, Erin had been little more than an ordinary girl who'd never held a sword.
She believed Eunhyeon pushed them this hard now because he trusted the current her could handle it.
“Father was right after all...”
“Huh...? The marquis?”
“He said Master Eunhyeon's training is a nonstop gauntlet of hellish hardship, but if you survive it, you'll truly become a knight. I just... didn't expect it to be this intense.”
“Um... do you want to quit?”
“No way—it's lit a fire in me. After this camp, I'll challenge Father to a sword duel and earn his recognition.”
Eira looked utterly pathetic slumped against the wall, but her clenched fist and steely gaze were dazzlingly resolute.
“Let's do our best together, Lady Eira!”
“Yeah.”
Deeply inspired, Erin gripped Eira's hand firmly, steeling her own resolve.
Meanwhile, having escorted the girls and returned, Eunhyeon addressed Alex.
“Still manageable?”
“Of course.”
Alex replied, and Merdin and Aisha nodded in agreement, signaling the affirmative.
They weren't slouches—their skills had earned spots in Cracir, the elite royal guard open only to the kingdom's finest knights. They'd kept up steady stamina training, so they still had some reserve.
Yet their flushed, sweat-soaked bodies betrayed significant depletion.
“Truth be told, there's nothing I can really teach you all. You're Cracir members, the pinnacle of the upper echelons. It'd be laughable for me to instruct you. So...”
Eunhyeon activated the mana within him and continued.
“How about a no-holds-barred spar?”
His dense mana flooded the training hall in an instant, sending chills down everyone's spines as they snapped into combat readiness.
The three grabbed their weapons at the mental alarm, but before they could fully brace—Merdin, closest, found Eunhyeon invading his guard.
“Such a...”
The opening was fleeting, but an eternity for Eunhyeon.
Merdin recoiled to create distance, but as if anticipating it, Eunhyeon ducked lower and closed in tighter.
Before he could react, Eunhyeon's right fist slammed into Merdin's left side.
“Guhk!”
The powerful body blow buckled Merdin into a '<' shape, but he rooted his legs, steadying himself.
“Oh.”
Eunhyeon was genuinely impressed.
Without any reaction, that strike would've cracked ribs, prompting a call for Elenoa. But Merdin had spotted the attack, channeling mana to his side for maximum defense—and endured the clean hit.
It wasn't full power—just a minimal mana-infused tap—but Merdin handled it masterfully. Perhaps his tanker instincts, always shielding allies up front, shone through.
Still, the real pain in his side twisted his face as he raised his greatsword at the culprit.
He swung with all his might, but Eunhyeon wouldn't just stand there for such a telegraphed arc from the heavy lift, exposing Merdin's abdomen wide open.
“Hup!”
As Merdin inhaled to unleash the overhead smash, Eunhyeon didn't dodge—instead driving another fist into the lax guard's gut.
“Graaak!”
Merdin staggered back, the swing aborted before it began. This time, no mana defense—he retched up stomach acid.
“Urk!”
“Merdin!”
Alex rushed to check on him.
“A greatsword's strengths are the raw destructive power from your strength and its superior reach.”
“......”
“At first, when I slipped into your guard with that surprise, you pulled back to maintain distance and shift to your advantage. But I read it, dove deeper, and landed a solid hit. Minimizing damage on the fly? Excellent. So why follow up with an overhead smash there?”
“...No words for that.”
In close-quarters brawl, a greatsword was a liability.
Conversely, for bare-knuckle fighters like Eunhyeon or short-reach weapons, it was advantageous. Common knowledge.
Merdin had instinctively defended the first blow, but rashly counterattacking without cool judgment was a fatal error.
He should've kept creating distance relentlessly or adapted otherwise. Committing to the greatsword was wrongheaded. Realizing it, Merdin groaned.
“Your physical specs are top-tier. What's lacking is experience, judgment, technique.”
Pernias knights boasted exceptional base physiques.
Most followed the elite path: Aiter enrollment leading straight to squire, then royal knight orders upon graduation.
Bathed in the 'Divine Tree of Pernias' influence, Aiter grads wielded overwhelming mana pre-knighthood, their bodies naturally honing without effort—a blessed curse that now held them back.
Alex and Merdin were 24 this year.
Graduated Aiter at 20, joined Cracir around 21-22.
Aisha, younger, was the same—all fresh knights of just 1-2 years post-squire.
Steady training refined their gifted bodies, but the wielders lacked overwhelming 'experience,' honed 'judgment,' and full-potential 'technique.'
“Over the next three weeks, I'll hammer those in as much as possible.”